


When Dealing with Witchmen

by devitameatball



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Cannibalism, Daedra Worship, Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Forsworn, I Don't Even Know, I'm Sorry, Night Mother, Sithis - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-14 16:38:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9193745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devitameatball/pseuds/devitameatball
Summary: After one year of living with the King in Rags, Elana still isn't used to her new home in the redoubt. Bored with her life, she longs for adventure and friendship.When an old friend comes to visit, recently heart broken and ready to grieve, Elana will do what she can to cheer him up





	1. A friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [haunter_ielle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haunter_ielle/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Before the Storm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8086048) by [haunter_ielle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haunter_ielle/pseuds/haunter_ielle). 



> For those who have read haunter_ielle's Striking the Heart series: This is basically my interpretation of what happened during Before the Storm, when Cicero was in Markarth for a week after The Fight tm.
> 
> For those who haven't read haunter_ielle's Striking the Heart series: You will be confused. Sorry.
> 
> I loved this series, and I wanted to thank haunter_ielle for writing it. She's incredibly gifted at writing and inspired this mess.
> 
> She is my very best friend, and I don't have a life, so here is a fanfiction of a fanfiction.

Elana inhaled deeply, taking in the scents of the air surrounding her. Her upper lip curled in disgust as she was greeted by the usual stench of the cave. The familiar scent could only be identified as one finite thing: body odor. Elana shook her head, continuously wondering why she still couldn’t get used to the smell. She’d been living in the redoubt for over a year now, so the smell wasn’t anything new.

Even though she was used to wandering with other small groups before Madanach set up his encampment in Druadach redoubt, she still wasn’t accustomed to the smell of dirty people. She sighed deeply, forcing herself to ignore the scent, and standing from her bedroll. She carefully stepped over the sleeping woman next to her, who was snoring rather loudly.

 _I don’t know why she doesn’t just shut her mouth to sleep._ Elana thought, pulling open the curtain of their makeshift sleeping chambers. _It’s obnoxious._

Elana peered around the cave, stretching her arms out and feeling her bones crack. She smiled to herself, hearing her earrings jingle. They were newly pierced, and she was glad she chose them during her last trip to Markarth. She had always wanted to pierce them, but never had the time. Sure, Odvan was just as capable at piercing things as he was at tattooing them, but even so, she wanted the earrings to feel right.

Elana was very particular about the alterations made to her body. It was _her_ body after all, so, she figured she had the right to make it look as aesthetically pleasing as she wanted. She was allowed to change her appearance as she saw fit. Elana looked down at her body, parts of it covered only by the thin fur of her hide armor. She appreciated that it was custom for most foragers like herself to wear such revealing clothing. The amount of time she spent picking the art that covered her body deserved to be shown off.

Her entire torso was covered in tribalesque tattoos, stretching down her arms and legs, covering her back and hands, and ending just before her ankles. Elana had chosen the specific patterns, each representing a different vessel of worship. Her grin broadened as she admired how symmetrical the patterns wore. Most of the other forsworn just had random tattoos, received during drunken stupors or arguments determining manliness. Elana was certain that she was the only Breton in all of the Reach with such elaborately planned tattoos, and she was very proud of that.

However, because of how elaborate she had been when deciding these, Odvan had been less than polite. He took every opportunity to shamelessly flirt with Elana, and failed to understand that she wanted the tattoos for her aesthetic, not so his hands could roam her body. Elana shuddered at the memory, and was glad that her body was running out of skin to tattoo.

She walked over to the table in front of the makeshift tents and opened the small container of dark powder. She dipped her fingers into the substance, then carefully rubbed the kohl around her eyes, remembering the motions she used to get the makeup perfect the day before.A chair slid out next to Elana, and she turned quickly to see that her snoring roommate was awake and scowling.

“Good morning, Kaie.” Elana said, placing the lid back on the container of makeup. “You snored all night again.”

Kaie waved her hand carelessly, not even trying to suppress the yawn that escaped her lips. “Braid my hair.” She commanded sleepily. Elana sighed, but obeyed, striding to the other side of the chair and reaching for a lock of Kaie’s hair.

That was one part of her appearance that Elana disliked. After her body had healed from the copious amounts of ink permanently added to her skin, Elana had decided to shave both sides of her head. She admired the other women who could pull off mohawks so effortlessly, and she liked the way it completed her symmetrical look. Unfortunately, Kaie’s choice in hairstyles was very similar, the only differences being the color, and the long lock of hair Kaie left to be braided on the right side of her scalp.

In all honesty, the only reason Elana tolerated Kaie was because they shared a tent, and because she didn’t really have many other friends in the encampment. Almost everyone living in the redoubt were either personal friends of Madanach’s, or were with him when he escaped from Cidhna Mine. He only asked Elana to stay with them because she was a skilled forager, and because she had ties to Markarth, and he mostly sent her on trips into the city to gather information.

So, every forsworn in the camp were either extremely annoying, or incredibly rude and unfriendly. Elana knew that most Reachmen focused on one thing: taking back the Reach. And, though she understood that, they could at least make civil conversation with her. The only people who ever actually talked to her were Madanach, Odvan and Kaie, and she didn’t like any of them very much. She supposed she had to like Madanach, because he was _The King in Rags._

Elana really only had one real friend, and he wasn’t even a forsworn. Because of that, she rarely saw him, and she was quite lonely. He was an assassin who lived in Dawnstar, and happened to be arrested at the time planned for Madanach’s escape. He helped Madanach, and so, the king had made sure that he was known throughout the Reach as a friend to us. Odvan even taught him how to do simple tattoos, and Odvan is very particular about who can know the secret method.

Elana loved when her friend visited, because, despite the fact that he as a little crazy, he was very kind. However, sometimes she dreaded when he would visit, because Kaie and Ursille drooled over him. He was an Imperial, and they found him intriguing and alluring despite his apparent madness. It truly irked Elana to hear Kaie speak of her friend in such a condescending way. It reminded her of how Odvan flirted with her, and that was aggravating.

Elana thought that all people should be treated like people, not like some object to ogle. She thought the way Kaie spoke of him was disrespectful, for a few reasons. One: she had no way of knowing if that would make him uncomfortable or not, and it was rude of her to assume that he liked being leered at. And two: Elana knew for a fact that he had a lover that he was very much in love with.

Though he never outwardly said it, Elana figured out that he was in love with her. She was the leader of the Dark Brotherhood, his cult of assassins, and he spoke of her fondly. He said that she was very important to him, and someday he would like for Elana to meet her. Elana looked forward to that day, because she valued their friendship and wanted to know more about him. But, he also mentioned once that his lover was also a Breton, so Kaie took every opportunity to mention her Reachmen heritage to him. It made Elana feel sick.

Elana finished the braid and secured it with a small hair elastic. She flicked it lightly to re-wake Kaie, who had nodded off in the chair. She nodded in thanks, then kicked her legs up onto the table and go back to sleep. Elana shook her head and walked toward the lower half of the cave.

Almost everyone was still asleep, and those that were awake were silent except for Borkul the Beast, who was starting a small fire to prepare breakfast for the king. Elana waved to him as she passed, then flicked her head toward the opening in the cave they used as an exit. Borkul simply grunted in response, signalling that he would tell Madanach that Elana was leaving. She grabbed a piece of bread from a small table as she left, pausing only to grab her axes from the weapons rack.

She chewed the bread as she exited the cave, placing her axes in the holsters on either side of her hips. She decided that she would wander to the outskirts of Markarth to see if the khajiit caravan had set up yet. She saw their wagon on the road a few days prior. As Elana passed the guards outside of the encampment, they chorused the phrase, “The Reach will be ours again.”

“The Reach will be ours again.” Elana echoed, painfully aware of the male guard's eyes gazing at her chest. _The Reach won’t be yours if you keep looking at me like that._ Elana thought, shaking her head and starting towards the cobblestone road. _You’ll be dead before you can claim it._

Elana walked cautiously to the farms outlining the city of Markarth, eager to get to the caravan. It had been a while since they had visited, and she was beginning to run out of moon sugar. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw the outline of the tent on the horizon, and she quickened her pace to get there. The air was easier to breathe out in the open, and she could smell the exotic spices from inside the crates.

She slowed to a halt as she heard a half-hearted laugh. It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. Elana approached the tent tentatively, curious as to what it was. Her heart squirmed beneath her ribs as she recognized the familiar black and red jester’s cap, and she began to walk faster.

Her friend stood in front of the tent, smiling and conversing with one of the khajiit traders. His head snapped upwards as he heard Elana’s approaching footsteps, even though she was normally undetectable. _A very skilled assassin._ Elana thought, smiling to herself.

His face softened as he saw that it was only Elana, and he excused himself from his previous conversation. Elana admired his handmade motley, moth-eaten yet still extravagant. He appeared different from the last time she had seen him, his hair was a very faded mixture of purple and it’s natural red. His eyes adorned dark circles underneath them, drawing the attention away from his freckles. He smiled, yet it didn’t seem genuine. It was a smile full of effort, not happiness.

“Elana!” He exclaimed, closing the difference between them. Up close, he looked worse. It was almost as if he hadn’t slept in days. It looked like he had been crying.

“Cicero.” Elana acknowledged, wrapping her arms around him in a quick embrace. “What are you doing here?”

Cicero shrugged, pulling away from Elana and looking towards the tent. “The caravan that sets up in Dawnstar doesn’t give me any sort of discount.” He laughed to himself, then turned to walk back to the tent. Elana followed. “Besides, I’m a grown man, I can do what I want.”

Elana laughed, the presence of her friend already beginning to make her feel more like herself. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I can only tolerate these people for so long, you know?”

He nodded, then reached into his pocket, retrieving a small purse of coins. He handed it to the khajiit sitting on the ground in front of the tent, who, in turn, smiled and handed Cicero a large bag. “Thanks.” Cicero said, then nodded for Elana to follow him into the city.

The bag clinked with the sound of the bottles inside, and Elana jumped a little in excitement. She knew that sound very well. “What’s the occasion?” She asked, struggling to keep up with his long strides.

Cicero cleared his throat, looking away from Elana and towards the surrounding mountains. “Do I need to have a reason? Can’t I just want to party?”

Elana chuckled. “I guess not, but you’ve never bought that much before.” She sighed, remembering the last time she and Cicero had spent time together. They had gotten incredibly sick because of the amount of skooma they had done, and Elana knew that that was nothing compared to the amount Cicero had just purchased.

Cicero laughed, the same hollow laugh from before. “Well, some of it’s for you, too, but I need an escape right now.”

“Escape?” Elana tilted her head to the side.

A long sigh escaped Cicero’s lips, and he shook his head to shake away whatever emotions were plaguing him. The rings and studs stuck in his right ear jingled as he did. “I’ve got a lot going on right now.” He smiled softly, turning to Elana. “You’ll do it with me, right? Don’t let me wallow on my own.”

Elana looked back at him, concerned for him. “Of course I will, but, what’s going on?” She placed her hand on his shoulder. “You know you can talk to me.”

Cicero shrugged her hand off of him, and continued to walk. “Don’t worry about it.” He said simply, glancing over his shoulder at Elana. “What’s life like for you these days? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Elana sighed, telling herself that she’d ask him about what was bothering him later on. “It’s been the same life, unfortunately.” She started, remembering the last couple of nights. “The king hasn’t had anything for me to do, so I’ve just been bored, I think. The only exciting thing that happened recently, was when Duach found a goat and brought it to the redoubt as an offering to Hircine. I don’t think he knows how offerings work, though, because they ended up eating it.”

Cicero snorted, stepping over a rock in their path. “I don’t know how you all can just eat a goat. That’s weird.”

“I said _they_ ate a goat. I didn’t. I have a very refined taste.” Cicero really laughed then, as did Elana. They both knew that her palette was almost the exact opposite of refined. Thinking of her taste, Elana got an idea. “What do you have planned for your tip here? Because I know of something that would make anyone feel better.”

Cicero shrugged, raising his hand to his chin as he thought. “You mean other than the skooma?” Elana nodded. “I’d like some more tattoos.”

Elana smirked. “That’s it? You could’ve just went to the redoubt, Odvan has enough skooma and ink to party for days.”

Cicero shrugged again. “Well, this wasn’t a planned out trip, I just decided to come. I just walked.”

“You _walked_ all the way here from Dawnstar?”  
“No, I walked all the way here from _Whiterun._ ”

They both laughed, and Elana knew he definitely possessed the stamina. She didn’t know why that surprised her. “Well, since my taste was mentioned, I figured you could come to the feast.”

Cicero’s eyes widened. “When is that?”

Elana grinned, lowering her voice. “Tonight. I was visiting the caravan for supplies.”

Cicero’s returning smile was twisted. “You’d really trust me enough for that? I’m not a forsworn, I might not be able to handle it.”

Elana rolled her eyes, because he definitely could handle it. “I’m the only forsworn that takes part in the feast. Everyone else is just a resident in Markarth.”

Cicero nodded his head from side to side, then turned on his heel and began walking in the direction they came from. “So, the plan for today is to go back to the caravan, then to your little redoubt for new tattoos and all of this.” He shook the bag in his hands, then dropped his voice to a whisper. “And tonight, we’ll feast.”

Elana’s heart jumped around again, excited to finally spend time with her only friend. “Wonderful.”

 

 

 

 

 

Elana almost fell out of her chair as the heavy object was dropped on the table in front of her. She placed her hand over her chest. “Kaie, you frightened me.”

Kaie glared down at Elana, her red eye makeup stretching down her cheeks to appear intimidating. “I don’t know what to do with this, so here.”

Elana looked at the object, and set the fur she was sewing on the chair next to her. It was a silver mask, with tall horns and a menacing scowl. “What is it?” Elana asked, groaning as Kaie sat on top of her materials in the chair.

“It’s a mask, obviously.” Kaie rolled her pale eyes. “Uraccen found it buried in the snow near Solitude.” She sighed. “I don’t know what it is or what to do with it so it’s yours.”

Elana hesitantly picked up the mask, turning it over in her palms. She recognized some of the intricate designs on the back, and looked down at her tattooed stomach. Some of them matched. Elana sat upright in her chair.

“What?” Kaie asked, too interested in inspecting her cuticles to look up.

Elana thought about the books she had read. “I believe this belongs to Clavicus Vile.”

Kaie finally looked at Elana, her eyes wide in mock interest. “Oh really? Wow, that’s fantastic!” She raised her hands to her cheeks. “Please tell me more! I’m so interested!”

Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but Elana decided not to humor her. She had figured out a long time ago not to let Kaie get to her, and had recently stopped awknoledging her rude comments all together. It was easier just to ignore her.

Kaie laughed wickedly, finally realizing that she was sitting on Elana’s work and begrudgingly placing it on the table. “Whatever, it’s yours now, so…” She yawned. “I don’t really care.”

 _You should._ Elana thought, standing from the table and walking passed the spiked, makeshift walls. She approached a small tent in the corner of the cave, slowly pulling the curtain open.

Smoke billowed out of the tent, and Elana coughed, gripping the mask tightly. Once the smoke had cleared she stepped inside, ready to face what she knew was going to happen.

Cicero was leaning against the wall of the tent, his legs sprawled out in front of him and his arm propped on a small crate. Odvan sat on his knees on the opposite side of the crate, rapidly poking Cicero’s bicep with a needle.

Cicero coughed slightly, removing the pipe from his mouth and exhaling smoke. “Hey!” He smiled, the same smile from that morning. Elana knew it wasn’t genuine, but she smiled back anyway.

Odvan glanced over his shoulder, looking back at Elana and grinning broadly. “Well, well, well…” He began, turning his attention back to Cicero’s arm to continue poking. “What can I do for you, Darling?”

Elana rolled her eyes, then shut the curtain behind her. “I just wanted to show you what Uraccen found.” She held out the mask. “I’m pretty sure it belongs to Clavicus Vile.”

Odvan didn’t even turn around. “Sure looks like it. Madanach might know, or maybe Cortannel.” Elana sighed, knowing that Madanach wouldn’t want to be bothered with it, and that Cortannel was the briarheart of their encampment. He was more interested in other things.

Cicero peered around Odvan to look at it. “Looks cool, Elana. But, I’m not sure about the whole Clavicus Vile thing.” He shrugged. “I’m not the best person to ask about daedra, though.”

Odvan shook his head, grabbing a rag to wipe the blood from Cicero’s arm. “You’re from the Brotherhood, right? Doesn’t your whole thing revolve around the daedra?” Elana pretended to admire the symmetry of the mask instead of acknowledge Cicero’s eye twitch.

“The Dread Lord is not a _daedra._ ” Cicero hissed, glaring at Odvan with the same twitchy eyes.

“So… aedra then?”

“Neither. He is the void.” Cicero said, very matter-of-factly.

“What’s ‘the void?’”

Cicero looked up at Elana, then scoffed. “Just finish the tattoo, Odvan.”

Odvan sighed, shaking his head and continuing to poke. Elana raised her eyebrows at Cicero, and he just rolled his eyes, raising the pipe to his lips. Elana sighed. “I’ll just… put it away, I guess.” She turned to leave the tent.

Odvan turned around quickly. “Just let me finish this, then you can come back and tell me what you really came here for.” He smirked. “That mask was just an excuse to come see me. Right, Darling?”

Elana narrowed her eyes, the stepped around Odvan and reached into the bag by the bowl at Cicero’s feet. She extracted a small vial from inside, and unscrewed the lid. In one swift movement, she drank the entirety of the bottle’s contents, then promptly dropped the bottle in Odvan’s lap.

Elana quickly left the tent to avoid the sound of Odvan’s low whistle. Once the curtain was closed, she placed her hand on the wall of the cave to steady herself from the effects of the skooma. When she decided she was perfectly balanced, she returned to her spot from earlier, sitting in her chair and carefully setting the mask on the table. Elana picked up her sewing things and started to work with them, then adjusted the feathers on the collar of Kaie’s armor, despite the sound of Kaie’s protests.


	2. Tasting Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elana and Cicero prepare for the feast.

 

The farmer dropped to his knees in the middle of the road, then fell completely on his face. Elana silently applauded Cicero, and he bowed extravagantly. 

“You weren’t kidding!” Elana exclaimed, walking from behind the large rock by the river toward the unconscious farmer. “You really _are_ good at throwing knives.”

Cicero followed her to the man, then extracted the knife from his back and wiped the blood off on the trim of his red motley. “You’ll find that I’m good at a lot of things,  _ Darling. _ ”

Elana gagged. “Don’t call me that.”

Cicero laughed, placing the knife back into his boot. “Sorry.” He gestured to the man. “The poison I used is good, but it will only be a short time before he wakes up. We should hurry, right?”

Elana sighed, poking the man with her foot. “Most likely. The high priestess will be upset if he runs off.”

Cicero picked the man up, holding him in his arms like a newlywed bride. He followed behind Elana as she started walking, straying off the path and into the open fields. “Why do we  _ have _ to bring anything?”

“Nothing says that we  _ have _ to, but I still wanted to.” Elana shrugged, absentmindedly spinning the cursed ring on her finger. “I don’t really think we can invite people to the feast without permission from the high priestess. So…” She gestured to the man in Cicero’s arms. “He’s like an offering.”

Cicero chuckled. “Offering? Please.” He shook his head. “You’re providing the feast.”

Elana laughed as well, “When we get there, if Eola’s angry with me, you’ll hand her the farmer and she’ll be okay, I think.”

“Eola?”

“The high priestess.”

“Ah, okay.” Cicero flicked his head to both sides, bones cracking as he did. “Is she nice to you?”

“Nice enough.” Elana looked at him. “You’re in a cult, is your leader nice to  _ you _ ?”

He looked back at her, flashing a crooked smirk. “The Listener kind of  _ has  _ to be nice to me. I’m her lover. If she wasn’t-” He paused, sighing and turning his attention back to the open field.

“If she wasn’t what?” Elana asked, recognizing the empty look on his face.

Cicero sighed again, then gazed down at the grass. “We’re fighting.”

“Fighting?”

“That’s why I’m here, and not home.” He turned to Elana again. “We had this huge argument in Whiterun, and I basically told her that I didn’t want to marry her, then walked here.”

Elana nodded, trying to understand her friend. “So that’s what the skooma was for? That’s why you’re being so angsty? This is your ‘escape’?”

Cicero pursed his lips. “I guess.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Well, if you’re really that upset, you’re going to love the feast.” She smiled a little, trying to comfort him. “The others can tell you stories about their angsty problems.”

Cicero smiled too, the same hollow smile he’d been smiling all day. “Tell me about them. Who am I dining with?”

Elana laughed. “Well, there’s me, but you already know me.”

“Unfortunately.”

Elana shoved his shoulder. “Rude.”

“Sorry.” Cicero said unapologetically. 

Elana sighed, then continued. “Eola is the high priestess. She pretty nice, but takes her feasting extremely seriously. Give her time to pray. Then, there’s Sanyon. He’s a mage, and he’s very quiet. I’ve never seen him outside of the feast, so I don’t honestly know what he’s like. You know Lisbet, right?”

Cicero’s eyes lit up. “Yes! I told the Listener that Lisbet was a cannibal but she wouldn’t believe me!” He laughed, nudging her with his elbow. “She makes excellent pastries.”

Elana nodded, blushing slightly.  “That she does. The story there is that she ate her husband and stole his recipes. Let’s see… then there’s Hogni Red-Arm. He sells the ‘bloodiest beef in all the Reach.’ That’s just a sales pitch though, I know for a fact that he’s had much bloodier meat. And, there’s Banning, but he sells dogs.”

Cicero raised his eyebrows as he noticed the red tint in Elana’s cheeks. “He does more than just sell dogs, apparently.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “What’s that look for?”

Elana shook her head. “Nothing, I just really like dogs.” 

He didn’t press her for more information, and just shrugged. “Well, they sound like my kind of people. I can’t wait to meet them.”

  
  
  


Elana peered around the corner of the hallway, making sure that all of the other guests weren’t waiting outside. She was pleased to see that the door was already closed. She gestured for Cicero to place the man on the chair in the corner of of the hallway, and he obeyed.

“Okay.” Elana began. “We’re going to walk in there, and…” She thought for a second. “Let me do the talking.”

Cicero furrowed his brow. “You’re acting like this is some super important and scary thing. We’re just going to eat someone.”

Elana scoffed. “This  _ is _ scary and important. I don’t even know if she’ll let you in.” She placed a hand on the door. “But, if she does, brace yourself.”

“For what?”

“They can be a bit…” She began to push the door open. “Strange.”

Elana inhaled as she opened the door fully, hit with the familiar, welcoming scent of the dimly lit room. Her eyes trailed around the room, at the guests seated at the long table, the offering table on a raised platform at the back, and the high priestess leaning on a pillar close to the door. The dining table was covered in different plates, goblets and glasses, not one thing identical to another. It was surrounded by mismatched chairs and benches, all taken from different holds throughout the province.

Eola glanced over her shoulder, then, seeing the open door, turned fully around. 

“Well, if it isn’t our little Elana.” She cooed, her voice echoing throughout the hall. The guests at the table all looked up from their conversations, waving their silent greetings. 

“We’ve been waiting for you, love.” Eola walked over to them, placing her hand under Elana’s chin. “Can’t start without our favorite foul-mannered savage.”

Elana smiled. “My apologies, Eola. My friend and I were retrieving a gift for you.”

“Friend?” Eola turned her gaze to Cicero, who waved. “Wait- gift?” She grinned, flashing her sharpened teeth. “What is it?”

Elana gestured to the door, and Eola peered through, then gasped loudly. “For me?!” She exclaimed, placing her hand over her heart.

Elana shook her head. “For the feast.”

Eola cackled, pulling Elana into a tight hug. “Banning, Sanyon, bring him to the table. Little Elana has gifted us with a farmer.”The rest of the room cheered, and the three stepped out of the way for the men to retrieve the meal.

Eola turned to Cicero, taking his hand and guiding him toward the table. “What’s your name, love?”

“Cicero.”

Eola spun him around,  then waited for Sanyon and Banning to retake their seats at the table. “Little one.” She looked to Elana then flicked her head towards the table.

Elana obeyed the silent command, taking the seat closest to the throne at the head of the table. Upon seeing Cicero’s confused and wide-eyed stare, she smiled and mouthed the words “ _ You’ll be fine. _ ”

Eola clapped her hands, making sure that all eyes were on her. “Well, it seems as though our little friend has brought a new little friend.” The room cheered again. “Elana brought us a Cicero. Get up there, love.”

“Up?” Cicero asked, looking around at everyone then back at Eola. “Like, on the table?”

“What else would I mean by ‘up?’”

The group laughed, and Elana couldn’t help but laugh along. Seeing Cicero so flustered was rather amusing to her.

“I mean… okay.” Cicero hoisted himself onto the table, walking forward a few steps and standing in the middle. 

Eola sat in the throne, kicking her feet up onto it and resting her arms behind her head. “Spin for us.”

Cicero snorted, then realized she was serious. He held his arms out to the sides and spun slowly. Hogni whistled. “What are you, like a jester or something?”

“The Fool of Hearts, actually.” Cicero smiled, and Elana could tell that even though he seemed uncomfortable, he definitely enjoyed being the center of attention.

Eola clapped her hands again. “Well, Fool, what made you foolish enough to come here?” Cicero raised an eyebrow, and she elaborated. “What do you do?”

Lisbet smiled. “He’s a wanderer. He and a little goth girl visit my shop for pastries.”

Cicero laughed. “That’s just a story she tells. I’m an assassin.”

Eola leaned forward. “Like… from-”

“Yes, from the Dark Brotherhood.” Cicero smirked. “Technically, I’m the Night Mother’s Keeper.” 

Eola stood then, extending her hand to help Cicero off of the table. “Welcome him, loves.”

“Waste in your wretchedness, Cicero.” The group chorused.

Eola pulled Cicero towards the back of the room, guiding him up the steps to the raised altar holding the farmer. “Well, little jester.” She began, handing Cicero a small knife. She leaned forward and spoke into his ear.

“Carve.”

Cicero looked at the blade in his hands, then over his shoulder at the group. Elana gave him an encouraging smile. He nodded, then turned back to the altar. He raised the blade slowly, then quickly drove it through the heart of the farmer.

Eola applauded him, laughing to herself. “Well done, friend.” She patted him on the back, then snapped her fingers towards Sanyon. “Distribute it, dear.”Sanyon obeyed, standing from his chair and walking to the altar to finish cutting it for the feast.

Eola brought Cicero back to the center of the room, leaning against the table and squeezing his hand slightly. “So… Fool…”

“Yes?” Cicero asked, still utterly confused, but seemingly beginning to relax.

“Why have you chosen us?” Eola tilted her head to the side. “Why do you want us to choose you?”

“You mean for the feast?” When Eola nodded, Cicero turned his gaze to Elana. “Elana is one of my closest friends, and she asked me to come. This is such a huge part of her life, I wanted to see it for myself.” He cleared his throat.

“She means a lot to me.”

Elana felt her cheeks heat up again, and quickly looked down at the table. Eola seemed satisfied with his answer, and began properly introducing everyone to him, and asking them to share the stories of their first feast.  
Elana stayed quiet, his words echoing in her ears.

_ She means a lot to me. _

Her heart flopped around, and she gripped the chair underneath her, willing it to stop. She had known Cicero for a long time, and though she had always felt drawn to him, it had recently become unbearable. Elana didn’t know what was happening to her, and why her heart wouldn’t just stay still.

Sanyon cleared his throat, and Elana looked at him abruptly. She wasn’t sure how long she had been staring at the table, but Sanyon was standing next to her, a plate in hand. She nodded, and he set it before her.

“Alright there, friend?” He asked, raising his eyebrows slightly.

Elana nodded, trying to get rid of the rush of emotions that were overpowering her. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you. Waste in your wretchedness.” 

He smiled softly, dismissing himself to his own plate.

Cicero pulled the chair out next to Elana, immediately beginning to stare at the plate before him in awe.

“What?” Elana asked.

Cicero’s voice cracked as he spoke. “This is it, huh?”

“Um…You said you wanted to.” 

“Oh, yes, I do want to. It’s just…”

“What?” 

He dropped his voice to a whisper. “What do I do?”

Elana laughed under her breath. “You eat it. After Eola prays for us, of course.”

“Like, with my hands?” Elana looked up at him. He appeared frightened. “What if I do it wrong? Will that piss off Namira?”

Elana really laughed then, pointing to the utensils next to his plate. “Use a knife and a fork, Fool.” She grinned. “We may be cannibals, but we still have manners.”

“Oh, right.” Cicero smiled, then looked around at all of the others, who were waiting patiently for Eola to be seated so they could begin the feast. He looked back at Elana, then quickly reached into the pocket of his motley.

“What are you-” Elana stopped herself as she realized he was retrieving a hidden vial of skooma. She shook her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know.” He said proudly, as he raised the bottle to his lips and swallowed the liquid for one last boost of energy before the feast began.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi I'm never going to finish this fic but here's a part I wrote and never posted for some reason?

 

Cicero laughed loudly, his voice muffled by the water  gurgling inside of it. Elana reached into the flowing river, cupping her hands and pouring the water into her own mouth. She looked up at the sky as she swished it around. The sun was beginning to rise, she didn’t realize they were gone for so long.

Cicero stopped guffawing, only for a moment as he ran his tongue over his teeth. He looked at Elana, then snorted, his laughter echoing throughout the mountains surrounding them. “Wow.” He looked around the river, then back at Elana. “I feel…”

“Weird?” Elana offered, spitting the red-tinted water back into the river.

“Powerful.” Cicero’s grin was wicked, and Elana shook her head. “I mean…” Cicero laughed again. “I just ate someone.”

Elana walked toward the back of the river, sitting  in the grass. “And that makes you powerful?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Well… yes.” He laughed again. “I don’t know. I could feel like… like I could eat anyone.” 

Elana laughed with his, as he came to sit next to her in the grass. “You actually can’t do that.” When Cicero raised an eyebrow, she elaborated. “We can’t do it outside of the hall. It’s deemed disrespectful. Eola called it ‘ _ sacrilegious. _ ’ Besides,” She pointed to his mouth. “You have little teeth.”

“What?” Cicero laughed slightly, but stopped as Elana flashed him a toothy grin. HIs eyes widened, and he reached forward, placing his thumb on one of her pointed canines. “You sharpen them? I’ve never noticed that.”

Elana shrugged. “Good. It’s supposed to be subtle. Everyone has separate lives, selling things or owning businesses in Markarth. Well, I don’t, but…” She thought for a moment. “Only Madanach knows that I worship Namira this way.”

“Does Eola have some separate life?”

“No, she’s pretty devoted.”

“I could tell.” Cicero laughed, baring his teeth to mimic the High Priestess. “She looks like a dremora.”

Elana laughed loudly, lying back onto the grass. “That she does.” Cicero leaned back as well, folding his arms behind his head. They stayed like that for a long time, watching the sunrise above them.

“So…” Cicero began, finally turning to look at Elana. “You and Odvan, huh?”

Elana snorted. “Absolutely not. He hits on me, sure, but we’re not together.” She turned to face him as well. “Why?”

“Just curious.” Cicero smiled, turning to peer at Elana. The rising sun reflected off of the rushing stream in front of them, covering his face in an orange hue. “You didn’t strike me as the type to be in a relationship like that.”

Elana furrowed her brow. “You think I can’t hold a lover?”

Cicero laughed. “Well, if only you weren’t a vicious forsworn and a lethal cannibal, perhaps you’d be able to.” She elbowed him in the side, and he flinched. “By Sithis, Elana, I’m joking.” 

Elana sat up straight, glaring down at him. “Not a very funny joke. My occupation doesn’t make me incapable of love.”

“Occupation?” Cicero scoffed, sitting up as well. “More like a hobby. It’s not like you get paid to eat people.”

Elana held her hand to his face, showing off the cursed ring around her index finger. “Really? Then what’s this?”

“Something stupid, no doubt.”

She could tell that he was still joking, but Elana shoved him back onto the grass anyway. “It’s the Ring of Namira.” Cicero’s eyes widened and she smirked. “I’m not  _ just _ a cannibal, Cicero. I’m Namira’s Champion.”

Cicero whistled, sitting back up to admire the intricacies of the ring. “Cool. What does it do?”

“Makes me stronger, and heals me in battle if I eat the flesh of my victims right then and there.”

“That’s... weird. But, it’s still cool, I guess.” He sighed, running his fingers of the ring then reaching for Elana’s other hand. She wanted to pull away from him as she felt her blood rushing to her cheeks again. “Shouldn’t you have two? You’ve got that whole  _ symmetrical _ thing going on.”

Elana shrugged, trying to pull her hands from his grasp, then opting to hide her face as his grip stayed tight. “Not  _ everything  _ has to be symmetrical, just my body.” He raised an eyebrow, so she continued. “My tattoos, my makeup, my hair, my earrings.” She gestured to her fur armor with her head. “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s pretty hard to keep fur completely symmetrical.”

Cicero nodded. “I get that. Like, the only thing that really has to be perfect is the thing you’re stuck with for the rest of your life. I’m not really like that though.” He shook his head, jingling the rings and studs in his right ear. “I just go for what feels… right.”

“Well, I’m not you.” Elana turned her gaze to the stream. “I don’t know, I just like to look nice, but I-” She shook her hands again. “Can you let me go? You’ve been holding me for a pretty long time.”

“I could, but…” Cicero tugged on her arms, turning her to face him. “If I did you’d stop looking at me like that.”

“Like...what?”

“You’re blushing.” Elana turned away again as Cicero laughed. “It’s cute. Don’t be like that.” She furrowed her brow, trying to figure out what game he was playing. He only smirked back at her, running his thumb over the back of her hand. They watched each other for a while, waiting for the other to say something. When neither did, Cicero raised Elana’s hand to his face, softly pressing his lips against her knuckles.

If Elana thought she was embarrassed before, she quickly became mortified.  _ What is he doing? _ He looked up to meet her gaze, holding her hands in his lap. “Cicero…” Elana looked up at him with wide eyes as he leaned into her, pressing his lips against hers. She yelped, pushing him off of her. “Why did you-”

Cicero smiled, gazing at her lips intently. “You said you aren’t with Odvan, so…” He tried to kiss her again, frowning slightly as she pulled away. “Do you not want to kiss me?”

Elana huffed, yanking her hands away from him. “I do, I just…” She looked up at the sky, letting the sunlight warm her features. “I don’t have a lover, you’re right. But…  _ you  _ do.”

Sighing, Cicero turned his gaze to the grass beneath his legs. “Arabella means nothing to me.” Elana watched him for a while, trying to figure out the emotion twinkling in his eyes. She had figured that this was about her, but she didn’t want to believe it until then.  _ Of course he didn’t come all the way here just to be with me. He’s trying to get away from her. _

“What happened?” Elana leaned back on her elbows. “You said that you had a fight, but I didn’t know it was this bad.”

She shoved him off of her again as he leaned in, once more. “Look, I-” Cicero sighed again, standing from the grass and refusing to look down at her. “Do you not want to be with me?”

“I do. Not while you’re with her. Not like this. Not if you just want someone to distract you.” Elana stayed seated, watching the rushing water fiercely, trying to stop the tears from flowing. “Go find Kaie if you really need that. Namira knows she’d be more than willing.”

She didn’t look up at Cicero as he turned away from her, heading back towards the encampment.  _ Of course he doesn’t really like me.  _ She pulled her knees to her chest, placing her head in her palms, opting to wait a while longer before going back. If he really was going inside to be with  _ Kaie,  _ of all people, she didn’t want to be around for that.


End file.
